


searching for a nod from above, but staring at the ground is just enough

by who_won_the_race_back_home



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Dead dads, Gen, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 12:36:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18469105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/who_won_the_race_back_home/pseuds/who_won_the_race_back_home
Summary: Hank was dead. And Nate wasn’t sure he was totally upset about it.





	searching for a nod from above, but staring at the ground is just enough

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Fireworks' [One More Creature Dizzy With Love.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q9WZiWwoxWg)

Hank was dead.

Nate was in a stupid fucking suit he couldn’t remember the last time he wore (maybe when his grandpa died? Or was it great aunt Nora?), at his giant childhood home that felt even more cavernous than normal despite the dozens of people in it. Hank’s coworkers, his army buddies, some guys he even knew in high school, all milling about sipping whiskeys in the living room, laughing a little too loud as they reminisced.

Plus his mother. Where the hell was his mom? She had never, ever been as cold as Hank, but she snapped right into her “chair of the planning committee” mode as soon as Nate told her her husband was dead. It had only been a few days since the gala, she probably hadn’t even turned it off. But she made sure to busy herself with planning the burial and the service, all the catering for having these people over. Now he couldn’t find her in her own fucking house and the thought of trying to make his way through all these people who wanted to offer condolence after condolence made him want to run upstairs and hide under his bed like he was five all over again.

But he couldn’t do that (maybe he could? No, someone would just come looking, see his childhood bedroom, basically preserved in amber since he went away to college. He couldn’t handle that either). So he stood by himself in a corner of the dining room, holding an empty glass, because the rest of the alcohol was back where all the people were, and so far not talking to any of Hank’s old war buddies was winning out over being drunk at noon.

That scale was tipping quickly, though, as a loop of their last conversations played in his head. A loop of the same conversations they had had one way or another year after year after year that Nate kept falling for. A day where he’d gain an inch, and they’d talk about Springsteen or Billy Joel over lunch, or he’d humor Hank and go play a round of golf, but inevitably it would end with a pointed comment about his job, his apartment, his friends, anything Hank could find to make sure Nate knew just how disappointed and frustrated he was.

Since the minotaur, though, this was the longest they had gone with genuinely getting along. A few weeks worth of trying versus years of bullshit. Finally getting Hank to say Nate after two decades of begrudging Nathaniel, the name he and Dot ( ~~ he and ~~ Dot) had picked out for Nate. It was Nate trying to give them something, to help them get over the hurt of what they thought they were losing. The first couple years it sounded like Hank was spitting it out every time he said it, but he came around, eventually, to the point where it didn’t even seem like it bothered him anymore, not when there were so many other things to be disappointed about.

But finally,  _ finally,  _ Nate had proven he wasn’t a disappointment. He mattered. He was responsible, loyal, and loved. He was a legend. Hank got to see that, and Nate believed he meant it. But in the end, Hank was the disappointment. Nate wasn’t quite sure how to reckon with that yet.

Hank was dead. And Nate wasn’t sure he was totally upset about it.

And well, that gave him another reason to hide away.

The dining room had become a refuge for the stragglers, a few people Nate had never seen before in his life, all of whom didn’t seem to have any idea who he was. It was immensely relieving.

But then Sara was in the threshold of the room, glancing around, looking for refuge herself. She spotted Nate and weaved her way through puzzled guests and his mother’s elaborate decorating scheme.

He was grateful the legends had come, they were incredibly good at attracting attention, and between all of them, well, at least Ray could work a room. And Zari would keep Mick and John out of trouble. Probably. Charlie very wisely decided to stay on the ship with Mona, and Nate wished he could join them.

“How are you holding up?” Sara asked, breaking him out of his spiraling inner monologue.

Nate shrugged and went to take a drink, only realizing his glass was still empty as the leftover ice knocked against his teeth.

“Fine,” he said.

Sara pulled a flask from her coat pocket and poured him a healthy amount before taking a swig herself. Grateful, Nate threw it back, but it burned hard, and he almost coughed it back up.

“Jesus, what is that?”

“Funeral whiskey. The cheapest, shittiest kind I could find after Laurel died.” Sara sipped again, but even she could barely hide her wincing.  “You get used to it. Now it’s kinda tradition.”

Nate stared at his glass for a moment, but quickly held it out for more.

“He was just–he was an absolute bastard,” Nate said. Sara was one of the few people here who wouldn’t judge him at all for that.

Sara nodded and took another sip. “Most of them are,” she said, before pouring him another swallow’s worth.

In the insanity of everything, Nate had completely forgotten Sara’s dad had died only a few months ago. She hadn’t been able to go to the funeral; she was still legally dead. Ray had tried as gently as he could to get her to talk about it, but she rebuffed him every time, to the point that she eventually started threatening him with her extensive knife collection. It took a couple days of that for him to finally give up. But every few weeks, before he left the ship, Nate would find Sara with Mick and Zari, in the galley or her office, drinking quietly together, Zari with a snack. That seemed to work. Maybe he could join now.

“Yours?” Nate asked.

“Nah, he was one of the decent ones. Wasn’t perfect, but he did alright.”

Nate nodded, staring down at his drink. “I’m glad,” he said, before downing the whiskey.

Sara poured him a bit more, then slipped the flask back into the pocket of her coat. It was quiet for a long while. Even with all his lonely childhood bullshit, he never got used to quiet. It just reminded him of everything missing, and let him get so far into his own head he often wondered if he had ever actually found a way out. Maybe he couldn’t join Sara’s weird little grief group. He always wanted to say too much.

“It’s okay that you don’t like him,” Sara said, eventually. “I know that doesn’t make today any easier, probably makes it harder, but in the long run, it’s okay. Your dad was a dick.”

Nate couldn’t help himself, he laughed, suddenly, head thrown back. “Yeah, yeah he really was.”

It was infectious, and didn’t take long for Sara to start chuckling next to him, drawing glares from everyone else in the room.

“Hey, I’ve been looking–” Zari said, stopping when she saw the both of them laughing, breaking into an odd grin herself. “Uh, your mom is trying to find you. I guess she wants you to say something.”

Nate wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand and threw back the remnants of his drink, the thought of saying a few words about his father suddenly sobering him up.

“Ava still out there?” Sara asked.

“I think I just saw her leave,” Zari said.

“Okay, good. I can go out and stall a bit for you. You good?” Sara asked, hand on Nate’s shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah. Good enough, I think,” Nate said. “Thanks, Captain.”

“I hate when you guys call me that,” Sara said with a smile.

Nate gave her a two fingered salute as she turned to head out, taking out her flask for one last drink. He looked at his own empty glass and frowned.

“What were you guys laughing at?” Zari asked.

“My dad being an asshole.”

“Oh.”

“It’s not like it was a big secret.”

“I mean, he’s your dad and he’s dead, you can say whatever but–”

“I give you permission to say Hank was an asshole.”

Zari gave Nate a small smile. “Then yeah, your dad was an asshole.”

Nate snorted out a laugh. “Thank you. I just, I want to get that all out of my system before I say something stupid in front of the DoD brass and they, like, nuke my apartment in retaliation.”

“Smart.”

There was a look on Zari’s face, something Nate couldn’t quite figure out. Maybe it was the same thought he had, that this was a terrible, terrible time to be attracted to someone. But Nate was thankful for the distraction. He was thankful she was here. In all the chaos of the last few days, she had grounded him, kept him from spinning off completely into Gary’s conspiracy yarn board, an impulse he was always way too eager to indulge.

Like she could sense him beginning to spiral off, Zari reached out and grabbed his hand, tethering him back to Earth, somewhere just as confusing as the cyclone of thoughts that ran through his head, but at least she was here. And Sara and Ray and Mick, all here tying him back to the ground.

Maybe he should go back home.

“Sara just texted and said your uncle is about to fall over into your mom’s nice plants. I don’t think you can stall anymore,” Zari said with a squeeze of her hand.

Nate squeezed back gently. “Okay, yeah. Yeah, I’m–well, I’m not ready but, I’m real good at winging it. I’ll be there in one sec.”

Zari moved to leave, but Nate held on, just a second longer. She looked back, smiled again, and let him go. Then she was gone, and the room was empty. Just him and an empty glass.

Hank was dead and maybe that was for the best.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, at the very least, writing fic is cheaper than therapy. Anywhoozles, come talk about Nate's complicated relationship with his father with me over on [tumblr.](http://angrypedestrian.tumblr.com)


End file.
